


I Want Your Midnights

by Greenie (hidetheteaspoons), SeeBeeStrellacott



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Drunk Texting, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Ignore the obvious plot holes, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Quarantine, Robin gets drunk on cough syrup, Robin has the Rona, Texting, quarantine fic, self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidetheteaspoons/pseuds/Greenie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeBeeStrellacott/pseuds/SeeBeeStrellacott
Summary: When Robin comes down with a virus and has to go into quarantine over the New Year, Strike takes care of her and begins to realize that he can't deny his feelings any longer.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 23
Kudos: 60





	I Want Your Midnights

**Author's Note:**

> Have some wildly indulgent New Year's Eve hurt/comfort and fluff! 
> 
> -Seebs & Greenie
> 
> Title from "New Year's Day" by Taylor Swift.

The day of Christmas came and went and left Robin feeling uncharacteristically exhausted. After the Ellacott family had shared an elaborate meal and opened all their gifts, she collapsed in the bed in her childhood room and fell fast asleep. Upon waking up on Boxing Day, she didn’t feel much better. She had the beginning of a pounding headache and was quite achy from the cold. She’d also developed a cough and severe congestion. She was due to stay in Masham for several more days, but couldn’t bring herself to stay when she couldn’t even make it out of the bedroom to see her family, for feeling so ill. Her father had agreed to drive her back to London in the Land Rover, with her older brother, Stephen, following behind in his car to make the return trip back. Robin bade her family goodbye and climbed into the front seat of the car with her father. She donned her face mask, just in case what she assumed to be a cold, actually ended up being something more. The engine roared to life and Robin’s head began to throb even more. Reaching for her phone, she sent a text to Strike before falling into a deep sleep.

**Coming home early. Not feeling well. Be back in a few hours. Rx.**

***

Strike woke with a start upon hearing the text alert from his phone, indicating that he’d received a message. Bleary-eyed and half-awake, he rolled over and swiped the phone off his nightstand and saw that it was a message from Robin. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the prospect of seeing her nearly a full week before he was originally supposed to. After allowing himself to fully wake, Strike sat up with a groan and hopped to the bathroom in order to clean up for the day. He showered, taking extra special care to use the new body wash he’d gotten from Lucy and Greg for Christmas. Afterward, he donned his prosthesis and trimmed his beard. Setting his razor down and bracing his arms against the bathroom sink, he dropped his head and shook it, silently chiding himself.

 _What are you doing, Strike? You don’t even know that she wants to see you. Get a grip._ His internal voice never failed to give him all the reasons why something that could potentially be good for him, could also go horribly wrong. But he also couldn’t ignore the tugging feeling in his heart whenever he thought of her, or heard her voice, or even just received a simple text from her. At the very least, he could go downstairs and get a little bit of work done before checking to see if she needed anything. 

Strike, not wanting to appear too eager, didn’t respond to Robin’s text right away. He buried himself in research and emails for a while before he noticed the time. It was late in the afternoon and he hadn’t contacted her, nor had he heard from her again. He typed out a quick message.

**Going for a pint. You feeling up to visitors? I could come by after. Cx.**

By the time he’d downed four pints, it was late in the evening and he still hadn’t heard from her. Thinking that she might be asleep, Cormoran headed to his flat and wallowed in his own drunkenness, and the feelings he was having for Robin. It had been a whole week since he’d last seen her or heard her voice. Without her, he felt that he was just barely getting through the week. Colors seemed dimmer, time moved slower, and even his beer tasted weaker without her around. With so many thoughts running through his mind, his best solution was to go to sleep and hope his thoughts had dissipated by the time he woke up. 

Strike was awoken a few hours later by the shrill ringing of his phone. He answered immediately.

“H’lo?” he offered, his voice still soft and full of sleep. 

“Cormoran?” he heard, followed by a sniffling sound that came from the other end of the line. Suddenly much more awake than he’d previously been, Strike sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his shoes. 

“Robin, what is it? What’s happened?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

“I’m at the A&E, Cormoran. I wasn’t feeling well and I thought a glass of wine might help me settle, but then I couldn’t taste it or smell it. They did a test and the doctors say I have it...the virus…”

“Tell me exactly where you are, I’m coming to you now.”

“No - you can’t! I’m not supposed to see anyone. I have to quarantine for fourteen days to make sure no one else gets it.”

 _Bloody fucking hell,_ Strike thought. _Yet another two weeks I won’t get to see her._ “Well, what do they want you to do? You need to get home, right?”

She sniffed once again. “Yeah, they have medical transport that will take me back to the flat, but…”

“Have they given you instructions? Medication?” he inquired, suddenly extremely worried for his partner. He’d heard how bad the virus could get and he didn’t want anything to happen to her, especially if she was alone. She let out a small noise of affirmation, but he could tell she was scared. “Is anyone there with you? Max, or your family?” 

“No, my dad and brother went back home and Max is with his boyfriend for the holidays. It’s just me.”

Strike had to hold back a growl of frustration at the fact that Robin was by herself. “Alright. I’m here, tell me what you need?”

“Um...I don’t know right now. I’m still kind of in shock. Just...can I call you when I get home?”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be awake. Call any time, okay?”

“Alright, speak soon.”

***

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Robin arrived back at the flat. An ambulance had brought her and dropped her off at the front entrance, and Robin suddenly felt very tired and very alone. She inserted her key in the lock and made her way up to the flat, barely making a sound. She closed the entryway door behind her and pressed her forehead against it, closing her eyes, hot tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. 

Robin hated being alone, more than anything. After her attack, she’d been alone for months on end, trapped in her room and in her parent’s house. She didn’t want to do it again, especially when it was being forced on her. That was the selfish side of her talking. But the selfless side knew that she had to quarantine to keep others safe. She’d already put her entire family at risk over the holidays, and she couldn’t risk spreading it to anyone else, especially not anyone at the agency. Especially not Comoran. 

She sighed and ran a hot bath before taking the medication the doctor had given her for her symptoms. After she bathed, she crawled into her bed and phoned Cormoran to let him know that she’d made it home safely. 

“Hi,” she said softly when he picked up only halfway through the first ring.

“Hi,” he responded, his voice equally quiet and concerned. “How are you?”

“I’m faring okay, I think. I’ve taken the medication and I’m in bed now.”

“Been a bloody long week without you, Ellacott,” Strike sighed into the phone. “Going to be another long two weeks. Don’t know if I can stand it.”

Robin was both touched by and curious about this statement, but didn’t question him. “Well, you’re going to have to, I’m afraid. Don’t need any of you getting this. It’s not worth it. They have me coming back around January tenth, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Strike told her. “Whatever you need, I’m here. You know that, right?” 

“I do...thank you...” she replied, and for a moment, Strike swore he could hear the smile in her voice. “Well, I’m exhausted. Let me get to sleep, but I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Strike agreed heartily. After they’d hung up, he immediately fell asleep with the promise of “tomorrow” on his mind.

***

The morning and Robin’s first day of quarantine was gray and rainy and she had never been more thankful for a day off. She awoke late in the morning and was surprised to find a message from Strike. 

**Left you breakfast and lunch at your door. Hope that’s alright. Let me know when you’ve got it. Cx.**

Robin put on her mask and cracked the door open slightly, just wide enough to retrieve the brown paper bag that appeared to be full of food - more food than she would ever truly eat in one meal. She eagerly tucked into the sausage rolls and orange juice that Strike had left for her and placed the remaining ones in the refrigerator for later on in the week. She also placed a takeaway container of soup in the fridge and several bags of her favorite biscuits and toffees in the cupboard. She then texted Strike back.

**The bit of it that I could taste was wonderful, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.**

**I know. Wanted to. I want to make sure you’re okay.**

Robin felt a glow of warmth within her at his words and his actions. If there was anyone she wanted taking care of her, it was him. But how she wished she could see him. She’d have to settle for this, and nothing more. For now.

**Thank you, Cormoran. I really appreciate it. Best partner and best mate I’ve ever had. Rx.**

**The feeling is mutual, Ellacott. Cx.**

Strike said nothing more to her that evening, or the following day. Late in the afternoon, Robin was beginning to feel congested and achy once more. After taking Paracetamol, she went to bed for the night. 

She woke up a few hours later with a start. Her chest was heaving and she was breathing rapidly. Robin felt a weight in the middle of her chest, as if something had been sitting on her, holding her down, forcing her to hold her breath. She reached for her phone out of habit and dialed Strike. He answered with a sleepy “H’lo?”

“Cor...mor...an…”

“Robin, are you alright? Do I need to come over there,”

“No…” Robin cried between forceful sobs. “Just...can’t...breathe. Panic attack.”

“Okay, take it slow. Try and breathe with me, okay? In...two...three...four...hold...two...three…

Four...five...six...seven...out...two...three..four...five...six...seven....eight…” After several rounds, Robin was finally able to slow her breathing down to a normal rate and it became easier for her to speak. 

“Better?” he asked, unsure whether she truly was. 

“Yeah, think so.”

“What happened? Did anything, in particular, set you off?” he asked. 

“Just being here alone, I think. I know it’s only been two days, but it reminds me of...well...after the attack. It reminds me of being in my room, in that house all the damn time. I know it’s for everyone’s safety, but I can’t stand it.” 

“I know it’s hard, but you’re not alone, Robin. You have me, and you can call me whenever you like. Doesn’t matter when or why. I’ll always answer for you.”

Robin thought she might melt into the bed at his words, and his sweetness. Before she could even form a coherent thought, the words had already escaped her lips. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Until I fall asleep?” 

“Yeah, I will.” 

“Tell me about Cornwall?”

“Sure,” he replied, pleased that she wanted to hear about his time in his favorite place. Strike launched into a series of stories about his childhood in Cornwall. After twenty minutes, Cormoran stopped to listen and was certain that he heard the slow, timed rhythm of her breath, along with a light snore here and there. He smiled and whispered, “I promise I’ll take you there one day,” then hung up the phone for the night. 

***

Robin awoke the next morning to find yet another text from Strike. She smiled when she opened it. 

**Left another package of things at your door. Hope they’re useful. Cx.**

Though tired and weak from the previous night’s emotional upheaval, she made her way to the door, excited to find what might await her. She dragged the cardboard Amazon box inside and lifted it on top of the table to get a better look. Upon opening the box, she was greeted by two ridiculously large, gray, and fluffy stuffed animals. Once removed from the box, she saw that they were not only stuffed animals, but two very large slippers. Robin squealed rather excitedly, and was especially glad that Strike wasn’t there to hear her.

She slipped the donkeys on her feet and wiggled her toes to feel how warm they were inside. They were a perfect fit and Robin was certain that she’d never take them off. 

Robin rummaged around inside the rest of the box and found a small medicine kit with cough syrup, a thermometer, more paracetamol, tissues, lip balm, and a box of her favorite tea bags. Robin warmed at the thought of Strike wandering up and down the aisles of the chemist’s, trying to find all the things that were now in her hand. It was a rather domestic feeling - a feeling that went beyond partners and mates. It spoke of something deeper, something more meaningful. _But there was no way he felt like that..._ Robin thought to herself. _It wasn’t possible...was it?_ She shook the feeling away immediately and brought the items to her medicine cabinet before settling down in her bed for the evening with a book. She fell asleep almost immediately.

***

The next morning, Strike awoke to a short text from Robin. 

**Morning!**

He smiled and responded back immediately. 

**Morning. You’re up early.**

**I’m getting restless. Trying to find something productive to do that doesn’t involve sitting on my arse all day.**

Strike chuckled and tapped out his response.

**I can think of something you can do…**

He hoped she’d realize that he was teasing.

**Strike, I am not doing this month’s expense reports for you!**

He sat up to respond, then put on his prosthesis. 

**A man can hope, right?**

**Keep on hoping, man...**

With that, Strike turned his attention to the day’s tasks, which included surveillance, research, next week’s rota, and those damned expense reports. These kept him busy for hours, and by the time he stood up, it was well after dinner time and his stomach growled loudly.

He popped down to the cafe up the street and tucked into a sandwich and a rather large order of chips before heading to the small gift shop that was next door. He purchased a few items and made his way to Robin’s, in order to leave it on her doorstep. 

When he arrived, Strike was quick and quiet, dropping the bag on her doorstep and hiding in the stairwell where she wouldn’t see him. He tapped out a quick text to let her know and waited for her to come out. He hoped to catch even the smallest glimpse of her. He saw the door open and though he couldn’t see her face for the mask, he did see a flash of her red-gold ponytail as it swished behind her when she closed the door. He knew that was as close as he was going to get tonight, and smiled to himself as he walked away. 

***

Robin was excited to see yet another package from Strike. She quickly brought it inside and opened the bag, this time revealing all the contents she’d need for a relaxing night in the bath. He’d included champagne, bath bombs, and bubble bath. 

Robin quickly undressed. She was dying to pour herself into a large, hot bath and stay there the rest of the evening. While laying in the bath, she thought of Strike, and what all the care he’d provided for her over the past few days could mean. Did he really only see her as a work partner and friend, or did he possibly want something _more?_

She reached hesitantly for her phone, then pulled her hand back. Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, she reached for her phone several more times, before finally muttering “Fuck it all” and taking it to message Strike. 

**Thank you for the bath stuff. Much appreciated.**

His response arrived quickly. 

**You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do. I hope you’re feeling a little better?**

She tapped out a reply.

**Still aching all over and have a bit of a cough, but otherwise not too bad. Nothing more than a cold. I think I got lucky.**

**I’ve just realized tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Are you doing anything fun, I hope? Besides playing nurse to me?**

He took a while to respond to her question.

**Just supposed to go to Nick and Ilsa’s. I may say bugger it though.**

**Aw, you don’t want to go?**

**Nah. Not the same without you.**

She wished she could go to Nick and Ilsa’s with him. She wished, more than anything, that she could be with him and tell him how she really felt. She knew it was impossible, but she held out hope for the end of quarantine. 

With a sigh, she washed up, unplugged the drain, and allowed the water to run out of the tub. After standing and drying herself off, Robin put on her warmest dressing gown and her new slippers and headed to the kitchen for a quick cuppa and her first nightly dose of cough medicine. 

Robin headed to bed but found it difficult to fall asleep. She tossed and turned, her mind wandering to many different places and scenarios. After a few hours, she stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She felt light and wobbly on her feet and ran into the wall several times on her way back to the bedroom. She collapsed on the bed and bounced on it hard, giggling as she fell backward. Before she knew it, Robin had grabbed her phone and snapped a series of selfies, some of which were the least attractive photos of herself that she’d ever seen. One by one, she sent them to Strike, hoping that he was still awake. 

After a few moments, she received a brief message back. 

**Ellacott. It’s after midnight. Why are you sending me pictures of yourself?**

**Whantd see if u send 1 bak.**

Robin pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to ignore her typos. Even in her inebriated state, she knew she was at the point where she might say things she couldn’t take back. And she didn’t have any fucks left to give. She typed another message to him.

**Cmrn need to tellu somehn.**

He didn’t reply right away. 

**Is it something that maybe you should wait until you’re sober to say?**

**No, thnk’m god.**

**Gud***

**It’s not getn beddr is it?**

A moment.

 **No, it isn’t. What did you have tonight? There wasn’t _that_** **much alcohol in the champagne…**

**Didn hav the chapmange. Only hav teh cofuh syrp.**

Robin smacked a hand over her mouth, suddenly realizing why she felt drunk. She’d had too much cough syrup before bed. 

**Oh god, have i ODd on cough syrp?**

His reply buzzed through almost instantly.

**I think you’re fine, but please take it easy and try to get some rest? If you must send me ridiculous pictures of yourself, please at least be in bed so I know you won’t get hurt.**

He grimaced when he realized how that sounded and sent a follow-up message.

**I didn’t mean for that to sound like it did...just be careful, alright?**

Robin replied instantaneously. 

**Cormorn, will you send me a pic? Plz?**

A message. Attached, was a picture of a teddy bear-like Cormoran. Strike was especially stubbly and wore a signature half-grin on his face. His hair was mussed and his eyes were dark, though very much had their same spark in them. He was looking just beyond the camera, and Robin found it adorable that he didn’t know where to look. 

“Cute,” she murmured to herself. 

With that, she finally settled and fell asleep, dreaming of a real, live Cormoran Strike in her bed. 

***

The next day, Strike didn’t hear from Robin until well into the afternoon, and it wasn’t even in the form of a text. She’d sent him an invitation to play Words WIth Friends, of all things. 

He had to laugh at her sense of humor. He imagined that she was still embarrassed about the cough syrup debacle from the previous night, but he’d already forgotten all about it. They played the game back and forth for nearly an hour, with Strike winning by triple digits in the end. By this time, it was late in the evening, and Strike needed to get ready to leave for Nick and Ilsa’s, but sent Robin a real text before he did so. 

**Happy New Year, Ellacott. Can’t wait to get you out of there. By the way, go look at your door. Cxxx.**

Robin stepped out once more and brought in a package of New Year's Eve goodies for one - crackers, champagne, and chocolates.

***

Robin was lying on her bed, watching the midnight countdown without much enthusiasm. She was holding one of the crackers Strike had brought her in one hand, her phone in the other. Neither item was bringing her much joy at the moment. She knew her partner had planned on going to Nick and Ilsa’s for New Year’s, so she supposed she shouldn’t be expecting much contact from him. But she couldn’t help but be disappointed by his lack of communication. 

They had been in such frequent contact throughout the last week, she had almost forgotten that she was completely alone. But now with midnight approaching, the emptiness of her flat seemed to press in around her. She pulled her soft dressing gown more tightly around her and stared morosely at her phone. She typed out a text to Strike, then deleted it. She had already distracted him enough this week, best let him enjoy the party.

She had just resolved to enjoy the countdown program when she heard a knock on the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Who would be dropping by at this hour? Alarm bells going off in her head and heart pounding, Robin looked around frantically for anything she could use as a weapon. She grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and softly padded down the hallway to the door. 

Robin gripped the scissors tightly and held them at eye level, ready to fight off any potential attacker. 

“Who is it?” She called through the door.

“Robin, it’s me!” came the muffled voice of her partner.

“Cormoran? What are you doing here?”

The doorknob rattled as he tried to open the door. “Will you let me in?”

“No! You can’t come in, I’m in quarantine!”

Silence. Her mobile started buzzing in her hand, and Robin jumped and squeaked in surprise. Cormoran’s name flashed across her screen. She clicked the green button and brought the phone to her ear. Cormoran’s voice sounded through the phone and through the door, causing a weird echo.

“I was hoping we could spend New Year’s together. Will you please let me in?”

“But...we can’t! You’d have to quarantine too.”

The doorknob rattled again. “I don’t ca-... Can I please just come in? I don’t want to do this through the door.”

Robin’s brain struggled to keep up. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Do what, exactly?” she asked slowly, her voice shaky.

She heard him sigh through the phone; a gentle thump on the door, and she imagined his head was resting against the thick wood.

His voice was low and rough with emotion, “Robin, don’t make me tear down this door to get to you. Because I will.”

She gasped, her mouth moving soundlessly as words completely failed her.

“Stand back, I’m coming in!” He shouted through the door.

Robin stepped back, stunned. Surely he didn’t think he could actually break through the door? She heard the sound of a key sliding smoothly into the lock, watched as the bolt turned. The door swung open and Cormoran stood before her, flecks of rain and snow in his hair and on his shoulders.

Strike took in her shocked face, the scissors held at her side. She looked adorable with her freshly cleaned face, soft pajama bottoms, and fluffy dressing gown. His eyes continued down to her feet, which looked quite snug in the fuzzy donkey slippers he had given her, and he was overcome with emotion for her. 

He nodded at the weapon in her hand. “Were you going to stab me?” he teased.

“Cormoran, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here, now you’ll have to quarantine. Wait, how did you get a key to my flat?”

“I took your spare from the office.”

“What are you doing here?”

Strike took a step closer to her, closing the door behind him. Robin stepped back, trying to maintain a distance.

“Robin,” he murmured, and took another step towards her. She again tried to step away from him, but backed into the wall. He took one final step towards her, so close he could smell the rose-scented soap lingering on her skin. There was only a hairsbreadth of space between their bodies. 

“It’s almost midnight,” he breathed.

“Yes, I know. You really shouldn’t be this close.” Robin swallowed heavily, and pushed against his chest.

At least, she had tried to push against his chest. Instead, her hand found its home over his heart, and her traitorous fingers kneaded into the plush wool of his jumper.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, and his head leaned fractionally towards hers, his eyes dropping to her lips. “I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

“Cormoran-”

Strike cut off her protests by dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “Robin, I couldn’t bear to let another year pass by without telling you how I feel. This year has been hell for everyone, and there’s no telling if it’s going to get better anytime soon. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to live another moment without you. I love you, Robin. And if you don’t feel the same, then I’ll leave right now and we’ll start the new year as nothing more than business partners. But if you feel as I do…” Strike rubbed his nose against hers, and she could feel his breath ghosting across her lips. “Please tell me you feel the same,” he whispered.

“I do.”

The words had barely crossed her lips before his mouth was covering hers, warm and insistent. He parted her lips, and she gladly opened to him, his tongue delving into her ready mouth and devouring her. Her fingers tangled in his damp curls, pulling him closer to her. He kissed her and kissed her, until both were lightheaded and breathless.

In the background, the countdown to midnight started. Somehow the cheers and fireworks broke through the cloud of passion, and their kiss slowed, though neither pulled away. 

“Happy New Year, Robin,” Strike murmured against her lips.

“You know you’ll have to quarantine now too,” she responded.

“Being locked away alone with you? How will I ever survive?” he teased.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. And I’m sure we’ll find _some_ way to occupy ourselves.” Robin grinned and pulled him to her lips again, as Auld Lang Syne played in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
